All the Difference
by Elestra
Summary: Delia’s life will not be the same now. Things have been changing since she was chosen to sponsor Alanna of Trebond, things that should not be changing at all. One thing altered can make all the difference. Convent AU.


Un-beta'd because I don't have one, and generally un-edited. I will gladly change in spelling/grammar mistakes (or any other mistakes, for that matter) that you can find.

Disclaimer: Characters and setting are the property of Tamora Pierce.

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**All the Difference**

First Chapter: Delia

"Lady Delia!" Daughter Iselle's sharp voice would have, under normal circumstances, made her jump. But she remembered almost too late that proper noblewomen didn't jump. Proper noblewomen might act surprised in certain situations, flutter their eyelashes or perhaps even faint. But proper noblewomen would never allow themselves, even at times when surprise would be appropriate, to do something so awkward as to jump. She bit her lip instead, hard, and then turned to face the Daughter, keeping all expression from her face but polite disinterest.

"Daughter Iselle?" Her voice wasn't as quiet as she would have liked, nor could she quite keep the annoyance from it. She set down the half-finished embroidery she had been working on and prepared herself for the Daughter's usual speech—the one on paying attention. It was true, Delia hadn't been. It was raining outside, and very windy, and she'd been amused to watch the slender delicate saplings in the garden outside bend and sometimes break. It had been, at the moment, more interesting than the embroidery she'd been working on for weeks, and moreover because the rain had kept them inside for at least that long.

"Have you been _listening_, Lady Delia?" Daughters of the Goddess, Delia thought, were supposed to be peaceful and even-tempered people. The malice in Daughter Iselle's voice was proof against either. Nor did the woman give her time to reply as she tore her attention away from the window. "First Daughter wants you, and I'm not repeating myself yet a third time. You are to be in her office _now_, and she's not to be kept waiting." Delia returned her attention to the window, twirling her hair around one finger. It hadn't been what she was expecting. She was in more trouble than she'd suspected—more trouble than gazing out the window had any right to get her in. She'd done something so shockingly dreadful that it had been brought to First Daughter's attention. She wondered how long she could sit here, ignoring that apprehension that twisted her stomach. "Lady Delia." Iselle's voice was even more irritated now. It was also, Delia decided, more irritating. "Must I wait until the entire _convent_ knows of this?" She waved one dismissive hand at the number of young ladies who had lost interest in their work in favor another battle between Iselle and Delia. "Back to work now, all of you."

She stood then, although it was not—she told herself—because of their stares, or Daughter Iselle's increasing annoyance, but simply because she was ready. The walk to First Daughter's office was… worrying, to say the least. Trying to convince herself that she did not care how much trouble she'd gotten in had worked in front of Daughter Iselle, who brought out Delia at her most uncaring. First Daughter, a woman who, with a few simple words and a blunt letter to Delia's father could change her entire life, was entirely different. She swallowed, and thought, _I'll take whatever punishment she gives me, admit to any wrongdoing, but Great Mother, don't make me do it in front of Daughter Iselle._ Her pride asked for that much. She knew she wouldn't be able to bear the Daughter's satisfied smirk, behind First Daughter's back for her alone to see. To her surprise there was another girl in First Daughter's office, one who looked entirely unfamiliar. Small and strange and pale, with a boy's too-short red hair. There was a chair next to her, and First Daughter indicated with a slight movement of her hand that it was to be Delia's.

"You may go, Daughter Iselle." Relief—that the Goddess had granted her this much, at least. She breathed out sharply and returned her attention to the girl seated next to her. A pale rose-colored dress clashed horribly with the hair, which was ragged and badly cut and barely brushed her shoulders. Her posture, from what Delia could tell of it, was somewhere between sullen and defiant and afraid. Shoulders hunched, back curved, feet tapping the ground nervously, eyes glued to hands that were clenched tightly in her lap. It seemed she expected to be in trouble as well—but her crime and Delia's could not have been the same, for Delia had never seen the girl before. She looked young, anyway, almost too young to be of an age to attend the convent. "Lady Alanna is newly arrived here," First Daughter said, causing both girls to look up at her suddenly. The girl—Lady Alanna—returned to staring at her hands. "Lady Delia, your behavior has been exemplary these past few weeks." Delia frowned. Not what she had been expecting. Nothing near it. If First Daughter thought her behavior exemplary, she and Daughter Iselle could not be on speaking terms. "I would like you to act as Lady Alanna's sponsor. Show her around. Perhaps she will be moved to imitate her good behavior."

This was spoken with a tone of sarcasm that made Delia turn to look at the other girl. Alanna turned at the same moment. Her eyes were bright violet. Delia met them for an instant and turned away. The color made her nervous, as did the girl's unblinking stare. She seemed to look at Delia without seeing her. First Daughter seemed almost puzzled by their combined silence. She looked first at Alanna, then Delia, brows raised, and said, "You may go."

It wasn't punishment duty, or a public chastisement. But Delia felt embarrassed with the strange, silent girl trailing her as she attended her classes and meals. It was evening meal, now. Delia sat in her usually spot, her friends surrounding her and talking in the quiet, restrained voices that the Daughters made sure were the only ones used in the Dining Hall. But Delia did not join in their chatter. Lady Alanna sat at her left, silent and receiving the occasional odd look from one of Delia's table-mates. She had explained the situation to them, but she did not feel like talking now. Almost as if it was rude, talking, enjoying herself while the girl she was supposed to sponsor sat silently.

Alanna had hardly spoken over the course of the day. When the Daughters spoke to her, she replied in a quiet, almost dreamy voice that sounded as if she were somewhere else entirely. She ignored the other girls' attempts to speak to her. At first she had told them that the Daughters did not want them to be talking (which was true, technically, although a rule that was ignored by everyone) but eventually she had simply refused to speak to them at all. She had answered Delia's polite, generic questions about her family with "Yes," "No," or, "I'm not sure," and had refused to say anything beyond that. If First Daughter thought this a reward for exemplary behavior, she was surely mistaken. Delia remembered the sharp, sarcastic smile that had accompanied the woman's words about good behavior, and thought that perhaps she had known.

They walked to the dormitory room shared by Delia, two other girls, and now Alanna. Still in silence. And then Alanna breathed in sharply, and spoke. "I don't want to be here." Delia wasn't sure what to say to that, and missed her chance to respond. But she lay awake in her bed that night wondering what Alanna meant by it, and why she was silent, and why First Daughter thought that she couldn't learn good behavior.


End file.
